Axe Girl
by SrslyGiGi
Summary: I was a normal girl who'd just graduated high school. Then my whole world crashed around me. I never thought I'd be where I am now. I never thought I would go through what I've been through. And I definitely never believed in the supernatural world. Until now.
1. Chapter 1

**_AN:__ Okay here's my new story. If you've read my story Wanted just know that this is way different. _**

**_I have not given up on Wanted and I promise not to let this story _**

**_interfere with Wanted. If you have not read Wanted then please go check that out._**

**_I've been told it's a pretty cool story. I could not have done any of this without my beta Cupcakeriot._**

**_She's awesome and so are her stories so check that out too._**

**_Stephanie Meyer owns everything Twilight I just like playing with her characters._**

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**axe girl**

_Chapter One_

_Bella_

The sound of my door opening is what wakes me out of my dreamless sleep. My face is smushed into a damp pillow, which is grossing me out, but I stay there - hoping whoever is in my room doesn't bother me.

"I know you're awake, Bella, so get up," I hear my mother say.

I groan and huff and sigh. "Why?" I whine.

"Because it's 12:30 and you will not be spending your summer vacation in bed," she says.

I groan and huff and sigh some more.

She climbs onto my bed and starts digging her way through the blankets and many pillows I'm buried under. Even though it's summer time, the nights in Forks can get chilly.

Quicker than I hoped, I'm being blinded by the sun shining through my now open shades covering my window. When I can finally see again, my mother's big brown eyes fill my view. "There you are, pretty girl," my mom cooes. Her perpetual happiness shows, though her eyes have a tinge of sadness in them.

"What's wrong, Mom?" I ask, finally crawling from beneath the blankets. I yawn and stretch my fists above my head; my hair is all over the place, I'm sure of it.

"Oh, it's nothing dear. Just that my baby's all grown up now," she finally answers, her eyes getting glassy.

"Hey, Mom you'll still see me all the time. Seattle isn't that far away. Or I could just skip school all together and mooch off you guys for the rest of my life," I say to get her to smile. I hate seeing her so sad, especially knowing I'm the cause of it.

My attempt at being funny works and she laughs.

"Yeah, I don't think the Chief will like that very much," she chuckles and rolls her eyes.

I laugh as well.

The Chief is my father, Charlie. He got the nickname from the guys down at the reservation since he's been known to give them jobs on his contracting team to keep them out of trouble. He looks after them and treats them like family and his best friend is one of the elders on the reservation.

I used to spend my summers there as a child and they looked after me, so Charlie felt the least he could was look after them outside the reservation lines.

I won't lie, I'm a daddy's girl through and through. I was never a real girly girl. I went fishing and hiking and camping with my dad every chance I got. I've cliff dived and rode four-wheelers and motorbikes with the Res kids and this frustrated Renee to no end, but now she accepts it and finds it amusing. Every once in awhile, I let her beautify me and we spend the day together doing the girly things that she likes and it's not so bad.

I was determined to make today one of those days.

I got in the shower, washing the sleep away from my body. I let my mom blowdry and brush and comb my hair, because I know she loves playing in it; I let her pick out a cute dark blue strapless sundress that I've never seen before with a sweetheart neckline and a cutout detail along the ribs and a hem that flared out and ended right above the knee. She paired it with a cropped jean jacket and some flats, put my hair into a high ponytail and curled it.

After grabbing my shades, we hit the road to Port Angeles - we ate and shopped and laughed the whole afternoon. I loved spending time with my mother like this and resolved to spend more time with her.

We end up bringing home an early dinner and ate it with my dad, who'd been working all day. He told us how his day went and I absorbed every word.

I loved all of that stuff.

The demolition, the designing, the building, all of it but especially the demolition. I wanted to become a contractor just like him. We made an agreement that I'd go to college first then come work for him at his contracting firm - I was over the moon and couldn't wait to finish school, having just graduated high school this year.

He told us about all the problems he'd encountered while working on the house but that he was determined to see it through.

That was another thing I loved about my dad.

He always got the job done. He wasn't a quitter.

After we ate, I told them about being invited to a party over on the Reservation. Dad told me to spend the night at Billy's if I was going to drink and I agreed, packing an overnight bag to go.

Mom and Dad said they were going to go see some new film that just came out in Port Angeles that mom's been dying to see. We left at the same time, headed in opposite directions.

I arrive at the Reservation, park my truck in front of Billy's place and walk down to First Beach, where they're having a bonfire. There are a few adults that are there in case someone drinks too much and starts getting out of hand.

I meet up with a few friends from school and we dance and joke and drink. We promise to do this at least once a month and to keep in touch as much as possible after we go our separate ways for school. I'll miss them and, even though I'm sure I'll make new friends and new memories, I promise myself to never forget these friends and these memories.

A while later, I'm feeling good and fuzzy - I know I've got a nice buzz going now. While I'm headed for another drink, Billy calls down the beach for me. I make my way to where he is and he leads me into the house.

There are police officers there and my stomach drops, taking me from nicely buzzed to stone-cold sober in 0.2 seconds.

They tell me to have a seat and I do.

They tell me that there's been an accident - that my _parents_ were in a car accident.

I jump up and tell Billy we need to go to the hospital but they tell me to sit back down.

They tell me that they were on their way home when they were hit head on by a drunk driver; told me they were dead on arrival, with no hopes of resuscitation.

They tell me they didn't suffer.

They tell me that they're sorry for my loss and then they leave.

Then, my whole world comes crashing down around me.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot._  
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**Axe Girl**

_Chapter Two_

_Bella_

"_I'm sorry for your loss."_

That's all I've been hearing for the past few days.

As if I care how sorry you are that I just lost my whole world because some piece of shit can't be bothered to walk or even take a fucking cab home after he'd had a few too many.

As if telling me how sorry you are will bring my parents back!

It won't.

It's only now just sinking in that they won't be coming back.

My dad's not going to pop out and say _Gotcha! You should've seen your face when…_

My mom's never going to be able to play _Bella Barbie _as she calls it whenever I let her dress me up.

Dad isn't going to come home and sit at the table and tell me how problematic the house he's working on was today.

Mom won't be sneaking cute new clothes into my closet that she saw at the mall that I just had to have.

No more hiking that always takes three times longer than normal because mom just had to wear those new boots that her feet aren't accustomed to just yet.

No more fishing for that one legendary fish that dad's been obsessed with since he was a kid and heard about the stories from the Res.

No more camping trips that always end in disasters because mom was busy searching for the perfect camping outfit for us and forgot to pack something essential.

All because of that aforementioned piece of shit who just so happened to survive after being treated for his severe - but not life threatening - injuries.

I'd kill for my parents to have received severe, non-life threating injuries in comparison to this Hell I've been living these past few days.

I'd been existing, barely breathing since then.

I thought that the worst of it was over.

I was wrong.

The worst of it was when that piece of shit decided to show up to my parent's funeral to show his respects and to apologize for his mistake.

"How dare you! How dare you show up to my parents funeral, giving your sorry ass apologies and expecting forgiveness from me! Your apology means less than _dog shit_ to me. Your apologizing won't bring my parents back. My parents, who were loved by everyone in this town, who lost their lives because of _you_! No, I won't except your shitty ass apology. _No_, I won't be the bigger person and allow you forgiveness. I hope you die a slow painful death - but death is way too good for you. I hope you live with what you've done for the rest of your life. I hope it eats you up inside until there is nothing left. Then, I want you to grab a piece of rope, attach it to the ceiling, tie it around your neck, and kick the chair from up under your feet. Only _then,_ I just might consider forgiving you. But until then, don't hold your breathe," I seethed and spat and hissed in his face.

I had snapped.

I had been broken into a million tiny pieces that would probably never be puzzeled back together again.

After that, I laid in bed for days, weeks, months - maybe only getting up to eat when I thought I could stomach it and to use the bathroom.

Billy came to visit everyday.

He looked after me, silently knowing I wouldn't be in the mood to talk.

Until one day, he sat on the edge of my bed and spoke for the first time since the funeral. "Bella, I won't say I know how you feel because I don't. I have no clue how horrible it must be to lose your parents and I don't want to know. But I do know Charlie and Renee. I know that they wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life holed up in your room mourning their death. I know they'd want you out in the world thriving, having fun like a kid is supposed to be doing. They would want you to celebrate their life instead of focusing on their death. They'd want you to live on in their legacy. If Charlie and Renee saw you right now, I could only imagine what they'd say. Renee would probably say something about that rat's nest on your head. Charlie would say get your lazy ass out of bed and that he didn't raise no quitter."

I give a watery laugh and he chuckles because that's exactly what they'd say. Dad was always saying stuff like that.

_Always finish what you start._

_Quitters never win, winners never quit._

_God damnit Bells, quit leaving your bras on the back of my chair to dry. _Okay, that last one was completely irrelevant but it made me laugh thinking about it.

I decided I was going to listen to his advice. I got out of bed and got in the shower and after getting dressed, I went to the grocery store. I cooked, a lot, making Billy take some home to the Res. Billy and I ate and talked and laughed while we reminisced and the searing pain in my chest lessened.

I cleaned the whole house from top to bottom.

I was in a good mood or as good as any.

I sat on the back porch, drinking hot chocolate before deciding to take a walk. I slipped on a warm coat because it was a little chilly.

I just needed to be out of the house for a little while.

It was dark by then, but Forks had always been a rather nice town and what happened to my parents had to have been the worst thing that had happened here in over 10 years.

Still, a small voice told me to grab some mace at the very least.

I did and started walking.

It was nice, the stars were out, the night air had a calm chill to it. It was refreshing and I ended up walking farther than I intended. I looked up to find myself in front of the house that my father was working on before he died. It was still halfway demolished and a real eye sore. I remember Billy telling me that the guys just didn't know what to do with themselves now that my dad was gone. They'd learned some necessary skills, so they'd be able to get another job but they'd have to go all the way to Port Angeles for the closest contracting job.

I would have loved to take over for my dad but without a contracting or business degree, I'd be blind leading the blind.

I just hate to leave my dad's last job like this, half done. The mayor just wanted the house to be tore down because it was a safety hazard and in danger of collapsing.

I figured I'd call the boys and we'd finish this one last job. For Charlie.

I called them and they said they'd be here bright and early.

Everyone was excited to do this in honor of Charlie.

I went home that night looking forward to the morning but was too restless. I figured I'd better get a head start on it because I knew I'd get no sleep tonight.

By the time I 'd had everything packed and ready it was already close to 2 a.m. when I was leaving my home. I backed my truck into the drivway of the house so I could use the back to dump scraps into.

I got to work, smashing and ripping and tearing the old wood and walls down. I was in the zone and had gotten a good portion of the house down before calling it quits and started dumping the extra wood in the back of my truck when I caught sight of a rowdy bunch of drunks walking down the street.

There were five of them, all men, all completely wasted.

I went back in the house to wait them out and start to gather my tools.

As they pass by I can hear one of them talking. "Hey! The old abandoned house is being torn down. Man I remember all the fun we had in there," one man slurred.

"Yeah, those two girls from Port Angeles. How could I forget? They were feisty too. I still have scars from when the blonde one scratched my face up," another one says.

"Yeah, I'm going to miss this place. It was perfect. Far enough away that no one could hear the screams," another one chuckles.

I feel sick to my stomach.

I'm petrified with fear.

"Hey, somebody's still in there. Look at this truck," one says.

My fear increases tenfold and my blood runs cold. I can't hear them any more. My heart is beating so loud that it's drowning out all other sound.

I creep my way towards the back way as quietly as possible, keeping my eyes on the front door at the same time. When I make it outside, I finally turn around with the intention to run and hide in the forest that grew into the backyard until they leave.

As soon as I turn around though, I'm face to face with one of the sick bastards and am caught, just like that. "Well, hi there pretty girl," he cooes, his rancid breathe hitting me in the face.

I try to pull away but can't, so I bring my knee up swift and hard and he crumbles to the ground. "You little bitch!" he groans.

I start to run away but he quickly grabs my ankle, twisting it sharply. A sharp pain shoots up my leg and I'm almost postive he's broken my ankle. I cry out and feel the tears rush down my face. I kick and tug and kick again with my good foot but it's useless.

His grip is unfaltering and he's eventually getting up. He drags me back into the house that is now filled with his buddies. "Hey guys, look what I found!" he laughs and his friends cheer him on.

He yanks me from the floor and pushes me to his friends; they push me back and forth while simultaneously groping me and making lewd comments.

I've never felt so humiliated in my life.

I wanted to die.

I'd just lost my parents and now _this_.

It's too much, I can't handle this, I'd rather just die.

One guy holds me and faces me towards the others as they start to rip my shirt off and I want to just puke all over.

Then a little voice in my head tells me to fight - the voice is small and weak but it keeps getting stronger until it's finally yelling at me to fight.

I feel the canister of mace in my pocket and discreetly reach down to slid it out before they start to rip my pants. I wait until they all get close enough before I spray all those fuckers right in the face.

The guy behind me holding me quickly spins me around and I get him too. He yells and calls me a bitch before punching me in the face and knocking me to the ground. The canister rolls away from me and I try to crawl after it but one of the guys grab my bum ankle and starts to drag me towards him.

I quickly feel around for anything I could use as a weapon. My movements are frantic and I start to lose hope – and then my hand lands on some type of handle.

I recognize it as my sledgehammer and quickly wrap both hands around the handle.

The guy dragging me flips me around onto my back and I swing the sledgehammer with me.

I get a sick sense of satisfaction when I hear a loud crunch and the guys is knocked unconcious, possibly dead, and falls to the ground. I crawl over to the wall and slide my back up it, hands still clenched firmly around the handle of my hammer.

The guys are still a bit disoriented from the mace and I use that to my advantage. I swing and swing and swing, hearing crunch after crunch after crunch, until I'm postive they are all down.

I stand in the middle of the room and let out a delirious and slightly creepy laugh.

_Because I survived._

I make my way out of the house and towards the truck but can't find my keys or cell phone anywhere. I'm convinced those guys probably took them but there's no way in hell I'm going back in there.

So I walk, using my sledgehammer as a make shift cane until I can't walk anymore.

I'm on the side of the road when I see headlights coming.

I use what little energy I have to throw my hand up and yell for help.

The car stops in front of me and my body sags in relief and I slide to the ground. The driver gets out and my hands tighten around my sledgehammer just in case.

My whole body aches and I just want to sleep.

So when two pairs of eyes gaze at me, one blue, one green, I do just that – I sleep.

Before I fade out, I give another laugh because once again, I survived.

_I survived._

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